


Who Walks Among Us

by P3nny_Dreadful



Series: The Demons of Hell's Kitchen [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-Spider Bite Peter Parker, it's complicated - Freeform, magic kinda, no beta we die like men, not entirely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P3nny_Dreadful/pseuds/P3nny_Dreadful
Summary: They say there's power in knowledge, and while that's generally supposed to be a metaphor, for Peter it's different. For him it's literal. He's not human, well, not entirely anyway. There's a very little part of him that's special. So little in fact that it shouldn't really matter.Except that it does.Except that it allows the metaphor to be real.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker
Series: The Demons of Hell's Kitchen [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742146
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Who Walks Among Us

It's the noise and blast that he notices first. Eruptions of fire and destruction blowing entire buildings apart. He's in bed when it happens. One moment silence with only his thoughts as noise not unlike a raindrop on a spiderweb strand. The way it hangs there, suspended. Then, like with everything else, gravity's hold becomes too much and it falls. Except instead of a splatter, the entire building shakes violently. Peter sits up, ignores the twangs of pain, and hobbles to the window. Dazzling flames lick buildings, and his stomach drops. May's out there. She hadn't been gone long, so it was still very possible that she was out on the street. Exposed to the explosions and hazardous buildings. He's already failed one person. He can't lose another. 

Just like that, he's out the door and onto the street. Except, he has no idea where she is. He stumbles down the street, each step igniting pain that blossoms from his side. Sweat drips down his face, both from the exertion and heat. His lungs heave with the exertion from the running, from the frantic searching he does down each street and alley. 

He passes by an apartment building, barely spares a glance at the people hurrying out of the crumbling structure. He'll feel the guilt later. When Aunt May is safe.

He passes by the park.

By a convenience store. 

By another building. 

By a couple running. 

By a subway entrance. 

He's right by an apartment complex when the wall beside him explodes. 

Flames bellow out, smog flying up and everywhere. Bricks and cement and drywall rain down, stirring the dust just beginning to settle. 

A gas line. He'll learn later that one of the fires hit a gas line. For now though, Peter lays crumbled on the ground. One of the larger slabs rests against his legs, pinning him down. 

He coughs. 

Then again. 

And again.

His throat constricts, preventing air from going through. It feels like he's breathing through a squashed straw.

He can face down muggers armed with knives but it's his fucking lungs that cripple him?

Typical. 

Typical Parker™ Luck.

The dust burns his eyes almost as much as his lungs do. 

There are black spots at the edges of his watery vision.

Is this how his life ends?

Is this where the railroad of his train of life stops?

There's a weight to his eyelids, as if each were attached to dumbbells. 

He grits his teeth, digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. 

'Get up!"

He needs to get up. Needs to find Aunt May. 

Peter claws at the ground but the weight of the slab prevents him from moving. Crushes his legs and futile attempts to escapes. 

Unwillingly, his eyes slip shut. 

Something flashes in the darkness of his shut eyelids.

A old memory resurfaces. 

He's younger and sitting on a stool Aunt May had brought. They're both on the rooftop of the apartment. The light drizzle of rain beats back the heat of a summer's night. 

"What are we doing up here?"

Aunt May smiles, "Showing you your heritage silly." She swipes his damp bangs to the side. 

She twists, and he's enchanted. May dances through movements he's never seen. Steps through each raindrop as though time has stilled. Then she extends out a hand and Peter gleefully joins her.

His steps are clumsy compared to how May's flow like a river, but she just laughs and leads him all the same. The whole world holds its breath as they spin and step to the beat of the universe. They don't talk or coordinate, but he knows instinctively. Knows it like how the sun shines. Like how the oceans push and pull with the moon. Like how Aunt May loves him without question.

"Do you understand now Peter? We may be human now, but deep inside you is something special. Remember that."

How had he forgotten.

He digs deep in him. Clings onto the fleeting memory of how they had danced in tune with the rhythm of the world. How it felt, knowing it held its breath for him. There's something at the base of this throat. It claws its way up onto the tip of his tongue. 

The word he speaks don't sound like anything of this world. They come out like music notes, each one proceeded by a breeze and tasting like honey. There's a crack and the smell of fresh rain and forested clearing fills the area. 

"It's been centuries since anyone's spoken my name."

Through the lightheaded buzz of not being able to breathe and tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes, Peter can see the figure of a woman towering over her. Flowers adorn her hair and dress. She bends down, "You're more human than what I would prefer, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers."

There's a light touch to his forehead and the irritation in his lungs and eyes fade away. He opens his eyes (when had he shut them?) to see her fully. 

"T-Titania!?" 

She chuckles, "Ah yes, the name you humans have given me. Makes sense I guess. Your primitive vocals just can't replicate the fae native language and sounds. I'm impressed you were able to even speak my name." She smiles cruelly, green cat-like pupils staring at him with hardly concealed disdain. "What is it you want, half-breed?"

"W-What I, what I want?" 

"Hurry it up mongrel, I haven't all day now. Speak. What do you desire?" 

Peter barely thinks before saying, "I want to find Aunt May and make sure she's safe."

"So you seek safety for your aunt. Very well. However, the gift of this wish does not come free. You are in debt to me now. Remember that."

He nods.

Titania gestures with her hand almost carelessly. There's a ripple in the fabric of space and the the world stills. Then he blinks and everything shifts. The crumpled wall and dust melts away to form a street. 

* * *

They sit on the couch later, after he pulls May free from a pile of broken drywall and brick. The news is on, playing something about Daredevil having caused the explosions. He'd be more concerned if he didn't know for a fact that there was no possible way in any timeline that Matt would ever do such a thing. 

He scratches at this left wrist. It'd been itching since his meet with Titania. Having started from a barely there twinge, it now sears with pain. He makes an excuse to Aunt May and ducks into the bathroom. He pulls down the fabric of his hoodie. 

It resembles a tattoo. There's a black outlined in the shape of a diamond with a perfect black dot in the very center. 

"What the fuck?!"

The edges are red with irritation. 

There's a snapping sound not unlike that of a broken branch. A cool, slight breeze wafts through the bathroom. 

"That's to make sure you keep your end of the deal human."


End file.
